


Stars are only visible in Darkness

by ximeria



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mutant Registration Act, X-Men Reverse Big Bang Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:44:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3319571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ximeria/pseuds/ximeria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles allows himself to think he can have his school after the sentinel debacle on the lawn of the White House. How wrong he is. And how wrong he is to think he can truly trust anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars are only visible in Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> A bit delayed (about half a day because yours truly got her days shifted around), but I'm happy to say that the brilliant artwork from Shigai was inspirational (as well as gorgeous) and she was great to bounce ideas off. She also made it easier with her wishes in regards to characterization and plot - as they were the kind I'd happily fulfill.
> 
> Please go to her [Tumblr post](http://shigtopia.tumblr.com/post/110522640595/art-for-the-x-men-reverse-bang-story-stars-are) and giver her all the love. I fleshed out the story, but she delivered all the inspiration.
> 
> And a huge thank you to Afrocurl for her beta job :D

Charles steeled himself, taking a deep breath. The computer lagged for a moment, then welcomed him. Rolling forward, he told it to shut down any entry points to his current location.

//"Please repeat your request, Professor Xavier."//

Charles sighed, trying to calm himself. He turned the wheelchair and faced the low set panel on the inside of the door. He punched in the command code for locking the access to the lower levels. He toyed with the idea of initiating the self destruct sequence, but he'd have to hold off on that just yet. It was the last way out and since he couldn't get a grip on the minds of the attackers, he had one last option for escape. There was an old tunnel they had rebuilt and strengthened that would serve as an escape route, but it couldn't take a wheelchair.

Hence Charles rolling into Hank's lab, staring at the single vial of serum. The memory of what it did to and for him brought a sour taste to the back of his throat.

The old serum would have taken an hour or so to hit his system, because his blood wasn't saturated with it anymore. This one, however, was Hank's incessant need to tinker and it would act faster, Charles had no doubts about that. Charles had told Hank to get rid of any that was left of the original serum he'd made for Charles.

For once Charles was glad Hank didn't always listen to him.

Of course they hadn't discussed it since. Charles had no idea what the serum would do and he didn't have the time to search for or through Hank's research.

All he knew about it had been Hank's last comment ages ago, when Charles had finally told him to abandon the research. He'd tried to find a way to make it permanent and for it to have little to no impact on Charles' telepathic abilities.

Charles stared at it. It was a clear liquid, nothing fancy about it. It wasn't glow in the dark like some of Hank's other experiments. He wasn't sure what it said about him that he was entertaining the idea of using it. He'd gone over every damned option in his head and he knew that when Logan had contacted them with a message from Raven, it had bought them time enough to get the last people out of the house.

The last students.

A different sourness rose in his throat. Twice he'd started the school up, twice it had failed after an initial success.

\---~~---

**2 Months earlier.**

Hank shuffled his feet. "There's a rumor around the students," he began.

Charles raised an eyebrow at him. "This is a school, Hank. It comes with the territory." With Charles' gift, he tried to avoid gleaning any details of any kind of rumors. Most things, he'd learned early on, were better not to know.

"It's among some of the parents as well," Hank plowed on, looking ill at ease.

"Yes?" They had, as far as Charles knew, a good relationship with the parents of most of the children. 

"Some of them seem to think," Hank began, then nervously took off his glasses. "Some of them worry if you helped them with their decision to let their children enter here."

The first thought through his head was: 'How do they know?' the second was 'It was only once and it was for the good of the boy!' What he said was: "Come again?"

"I know you have strict rules about using your power that way," Hank said hurriedly. "I know you, and they don't, but-"

Charles held up a hand to slow him down. "Start with the beginning, I'm sure it's not as bad as you've been led to believe."

\---~~---

The serum burned through his veins and Charles panted for breath. It wasn't as painful as the first version of Hank's serum they had tested, but it came close. Charles wheeled back to the door, unlocked it and relocked it from the outside. It was hard to move, hard to think, but he had to. He had to use the second command code at the elevator, the one that would set off a chain reaction that would destroy any notes and archives he and Hank had left. Any information on their ...past students and their families. Contact information, addresses, powers, limits, weak points, strong points.

It would also destroy Cerebro.

It hurt having to destroy everything, but at least Hank had a lot of their information with him when he'd gone away. Between his own near perfect memory and the younger man, a lot could be reconstructed, but still-

The panel outside the elevator flashed orange and Charles stared at the button, the one that, if he had wanted to, could stop the destruction. The computer counted down from ten and the display flashed between orange and red, then died.

It meant the lower levels were being flooded with one of Hanks' inventions. A corrosive gas that would fuse the metal doors to their frames and dissolve any paper left in their archive.

Charles rolled down the dark, empty hallway. His body was shaking with the reaction to the new serum. He couldn't tell for sure if his powers were affected. He had the same slippery awareness of the intruders getting closer, but that was it. He could have pushed farther out but it took every ounce of focus from him to keep moving forward. His legs, the lower part of his spine, felt as if they were on fire. He didn't like thinking about the loss of his power again, did most certainly not flash back to Erik's angry and disappointed face on the plane.

Realizing he shouldn't leave his wheelchair standing by the panel hiding the passage he intended to escape through, Charles pushed himself down and out of it. Half crawling, half pulling himself as his legs fluctated between not working, working, not working as the serum took effect. Not as fast as he'd hoped for but it would have to do.

Pushing the panel was another thing that was difficult for him. Finally he managed to lever himself up against it and activate the lock, half stumbling and half falling through the opening when the panel slid to the side.

Reengaging the panel to cover his escape, Charles allowed himself a moment to breathe freely. He couldn't even feel the dark slipperiness of the intruders anymore. As much as he hated shutting his powers down like this, this way if they did catch him, he wouldn't be a valuable asset to them. At least not in the capacity of being a telepath. Unless of course their plan was to kill him. Raven's warnings had been vague on what they might want him for - gift or no gift.

Charles guiltily wished, at that moment, that Erik had stayed with them. He would have been here to defend them all.

Chastising himself for his momentary weakness, Charles pulled himself up on unsteady feet. His limbs were aching, his spine had progressed from fire to volcanic magma. There was barely any light in the tunnel, save the few and far between emergency lights that Hank had installed when they'd first decided to use the old tunnel as a safety precaution.

Considering all the things his stepfather had initially added to the mansion, like the bunker and the tunnel, Charles found it ironic that those things had proven highly usable to them for training the students and then offering the means of an escape. Especially since Kurt had always scoffed at people who were different. He'd even called Charles a freak on more than one occasion. Never because he'd known about Charles' gift, but because unlike Cain, Charles had been a scrawny little boy who'd preferred his books to Cain's football playing and brawling tendencies. It hadn't helped any that Kurt had pitted them against each other - something that Cain had mostly taken out on Charles when he'd managed to catch him.

Raven had helped run interference often, making it seem like Charles had been in two places at once. Of course it couldn't last forever and Cain would be raging by the time he cornered Charles somewhere.

Pushing the dark thoughts of his childhood into the back of his mind, Charles stumbled through the narrow passage. For all that he knew where he was going, and knew where the tunnel came out, it felt as if the trip was miles and miles longer than it was. In reality, he came out behind the old lodge of the caretaker who had used to live on the ground before Charles had been born.

The walls were still there, but it was overgrown and the roof had caved in in several places. It did, however cover up the exit of the tunnel. 

Charles stayed where he was for a few long moments. As the last time he'd checked, he couldn't feel their minds approaching anymore. 

I guess that answers that question, Charles thought to himself. He did wonder for a moment, but the chill of realisation dragged at him. What if Hank had managed to make it permanent on both accounts? It could leave him with permanent use of his legs and never allow him to access his gift again.

Pushing the scary thought away, Charles focused on getting away. Too bad he didn't get far.

\---~~~---

Charles came to slowly. At first he had no real idea of where he was. That in itself was enough to caution him into keeping his eyes closed for a moment. There was light around him, bright enough to be seen through his eyelids.

There were no sounds, and no specific smells. Though if he were to find anything resembling what he could make out, it would be a slightly chemical undertone in the air.

The ground under his back was unyielding. He shifted a little as his lower back twinged. Then he froze, because he had felt that! The serum, the escape, it rushed back into his mind as if it had only been waiting for the right moment. He'd made it out, headed through the forest and then… nothing.

Charles slowly opened his eyes. There was nothing much to look at; white walls, bright light. He lifted his head and looked closer. There was a dark wall at one end of the ...well, cell seemed the best word for it. No amenities, sink or toilet.

Sitting up, he realized he was lying on the cold floor. There was a bunk bed attached to the wall that looked no more comfortable than the floor was. His muscles felt stiff and unused, but that could be down to several factors. The serum couldn't heal everything; the absence of muscle exercise. Not to mention that he had been lying on a cold, hard floor for an unknown amount of time.

Charles pushed his mind outward. Nothing. Though if this was a detention facility and the attackers had been shielded from him, he couldn't be sure that his inability to feel any minds was due to some protective measure or- Hank's serum.

Charles rubbed his thighs. Hank, you clever, clever boy, he thought to himself. If he'd only had the time to test it out or if Charles would have let him. Because Charles knew good and well that if Hank had approached him with a new serum, Charles would have turned him away.

Charles moved to the slightly more comfortable bed and lay down to wait. Surely his captors wouldn't let him wait for too long.

Unfortunately, in this, Charles was wrong. Not that he had any way of tracking time. He had a good sense of time in general, but he had no way of knowing for how long he'd been out. Judging by his stubbles, he must've been out for a day or two. This also meant he had no way of knowing where he was, how close he was to the mansion. He could only hope that Hank had gotten the few students they still had to safety.

Charles closed his eyes and allowed himself to be sad for a few moments. He was well aware that his captors could, and probably would, use any weakness against him. The more he could bury, the less he'd let them see. He and Hank had agreed that he'd take the remaining few students to somewhere Charles didn't know. Charles was beginning to almost be glad that they hadn't had a full student body by the time of the attack. Charles frowned. Could it have been planned this way? But how? He and Hank had attempted to find out who had been spreading the rumors about Charles, but they hadn't manage to find a specific source. It was as if it had just one day started.

The last thing he thought about was Raven and Logan. Raven had been the one to send Logan to warn them and Charles wished he'd gotten word back to her. He could always hope she'd stay away. Stay safe.

The light flickered and Charles held his breath for a moment. The light returned to full strength, but nothing more happened. He wondered if someone was trying to scare him by doing this or if something was wrong. Or maybe it was just faulty wiring, he thought drily.

Charles sincerely hoped someone was tearing the place down around his captors' ears. The next thought sounded horribly like Raven, telling him that Erik would be proud of him for thinking that way. And he would, wouldn't he? Charles took a deep breath and willed himself to rest. At some point his captors would have to do something, right?

Charles regretted his wish for change when he woke up in a different room, strapped to a cold metal bed with leather belts holding him in place.

"Good morning, Dr. Xavier," a stern looking man, off to his right, said. He had a strange helmet on his head and not unlike the one Erik had taken from Shaw. Charles was fairly sure that his abilities hadn't miraculously returned, but he couldn't very well test it on this guy who… He stopped for a moment. Charles had a damned good memory for faces. And he knew this one.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Mr…" Charles prompted. He felt sluggish and wondered if they'd drugged him in order to move him to another room - maybe they had moved him to an entirely different location.

"I feel crushed, Dr. Xavier," the man continued, walking a little closer, head tilted to the side. He was wearing a uniform with what Charles guessed was officer's markings on it. "It's only been a couple of years, yet you don't remember me. It's possible that Trask made a greater impression, but still."

Charles frowned. It wasn't as easy to think as he could have hoped for, but he had to focus, had to think through the fog. "I can't say I recall your name," he said, still digging in his memory, trying to connect… "You were involved with Trask Industries," he blurted out, suddenly managing to hold onto a clear memory. Remembered Logan, the one from the future, saying he'd someday cause him great pain-

"Well, that's better," the man said, pursing his lips in a wry grin. "If only a little. I'm Major Stryker, I believe you met my father around ten years ago."

Charles frowned. Yes, he remembered that, but there was something else there - something familiar in the eyes and nose.

"You also tutored my son. I have to say, it came in handy when he turned out to be a freak like you," Stryker said, mouth twisting into an ugly grin. "I wanted to kill him when we found out, but then I realized he could be of use to me."

Charles blanched. One of their latest students had been a small, quiet boy who could manipulate people's perception of him. Charles had seen darkness and pain in his past, but hadn't gone digging around, deciding that the boy would learn that he could be accepted among his own. He'd felt the boy's overwhelming urge to please his parents or any adult really. The fact that he was right now hearing the boy's father speak this way of him-

"I could of course hope that you could fix him, but since I know you freaks don't think there's anything wrong with you, you probably wouldn't see things my way," Stryker carried on.

Charles realized that very moment that he couldn't let Stryker know his powers were offline due to Hank's serum. If he did, who knew what Stryker would do to get his hands on the serum? No, Charles would have to come up with another reason for his powers being gone.

"We're going to have many conversations, you and I," Stryker said, continuing his speech. "While I'm wearing this helmet you can't touch my mind. But you'll do as we ask you, Mr. Xavier, or we'll inflict a world of pain on you."

Charles kept his lips pressed together. He didn't want to know what Stryker wanted him for.

"We know you can influence people's minds, and I have every intention of making a good, obedient soldier of you," Stryker said, leaning in close.

Charles stayed quiet, to the obvious disgust of Stryker.

"We'll cut you a deal, Dr. Xavier," Stryker offered.

Charles didn't want to know what that deal would mean to him, or the people Stryker intended to use him against. Nor did he trust Stryker any farther than he could throw him.

Stryker slapped him. "Don't play coy, Dr. Xavier - we both know you'll regret it."

Charles bit back his yelp of pain.

Unfortunately Stryker wasn't done - not by far.

\---~~---

Charles stared at the wall, his back to the room. His body ached from yet another round of Stryker's brand of persuasion and his throat felt like it was bleeding - in the end he hadn't even been able to scream, wordlessly opening his mouth and wheezing.

They wanted a new Cerebro, they wanted a conformed telepath - a pet telepath - Charles corrected himself. A good soldier whose loyalty lay with the humans. The very same ones that trusted him as little as his own people did.

Charles swallowed hard. Stryker had sought to undermine him and had succeeded. As he stared unseeingly at the wall he wondered what Erik would say. If he admitted that these days, in the hands of Stryker, he felt more than ever that Erik might have been more right than Charles had given him credit for.

He'd let Logan, the one from the future, and his own future self give him hope. He wondered if his future self had gone through this as well? Because if he had, Charles had to wonder how he could have kept that trust in other people, human and mutant alike, alive all those years.

Why did he keep going? He'd always ended up using his gift the wrong way, it seemed. In the beginning it had pushed Raven away, it had driven a wedge between himself and Erik. And Stryker had found a way to use it against him as well.

Maybe he was better off with it gone anyway. However, exchanging it for the use of his legs had been a short lived joy. If he'd still been paralyzed he wouldn't have felt the pain of the electrical currents in his lower body.

At some point, the door opened again and Charles felt his heart sink. Again. Stryker would ask the same questions of him, would expect different answers. He thought Charles wasn't cooperating because he didn't want to - not because he _couldn't_.

As the two guards dragged him off the bed and out of the cell, Charles was glad that he didn't have his gift anymore. At some point he'd break, at some point he'd agree to anything Stryker wanted from him. This way, at least, he couldn't do Stryker's dirty work even if he tried.

Charles wondered, as he stumbled along between the guards, if anyone was actually really looking for him. He'd told Hank not to. He'd told Hank to focus on the last of the students, to not risk them in trying to get back to Charles. And he had to hope that Hank had listened. He'd be a dangerous weapon in Stryker's hands. However, Hank was also possibly the only one who'd have come looking for Charles. If he even had any idea where he was. Hank would do as he'd been told, Charles tried to convince himself. He had to believe this.

Even if the small voice in the back of his head told him that Hank had gone against his wishes more than once, so maybe he shouldn't be so sure.

Charles fought the thrum of the headache he'd had for a few days now. At least he thought it had been days. Considering that the light in his cell never changed, save a few flickers every now and again, he had no way of even guessing how long he'd been in the facility. For how long Stryker had kept him secluded. He was sure that they kept varying the times he was fed the gruel that passed for food and it seemed erratic whenever he was dragged from the cell to be questioned.

He tried to move around when he could, pushing his muscles and tendons to keep working. It was something to keep focus on and he doubted Hank's miracle serum would negate the need for exercise. Sit-ups, push-ups - anything to give the body a few shots of endorphins now and again. It helped a little against the aches and pains when Stryker tried to persuade him to see things his way.

He let them strap him onto the table again. There was no reason to fight them. If anything, it only made them hit him harder, and he wasn't really gaining anything but pain from it.

"Well, Dr. Xavier," Stryker drawled. "I have a feeling today's going to be a good day."

Charles didn't bother answering. In the beginning he'd answered back, unable to keep his sarcasm at bay. Safe to say he'd spent the first days in constant agony as any talkback from him was repaid in pain.

Something fluctuated inside his head, but Charles pushed it away. He'd stopped trying to stretch his mind outward, it only made the headache worse and obviously it wasn't working. He wasn't even getting the haze that he had gotten initially from the shielded attackers back at the mansion. Maybe Hank's serum was indeed permanent - and that was all Hank had managed to change about it. It still wreaked havoc with his DNA, shutting his gift down.

"I know you claim that your gift has left you," Stryker said slowly. "I still think you're merely playing with us, trying to get us to let down our guards, take our helmets off to leave us at your mercy."

Charles thought that was rather rude. If he'd done so, he wouldn't have made it so bloody obvious. Really, it was as if Stryker only saw a man with a mutation who could be a potential weapon. Charles was a learned man, no need to think he wasn't capable of coming up with a better plan that that.

Of course, he wasn't so stupid he explained to Stryker _why_ he couldn't access his abilities. If Stryker thought there might be a 'cure', he wouldn't stop his war before he had it in his hand and every mutant in the world was turned human.

Normal.

That was the word Stryker kept throwing around. Like there was something wrong with them!

Mutant and proud. Charles almost giggled. Now that wouldn't do. If he did so, he'd have to explain to Stryker that the man had actually managed to do what even the great and feared Magneto hadn't been able to do.

Convince Charles Xavier that some humans weren't worth saving.

Stryker slapped him to get his attention and Charles barely winced. Stryker's temper was well known to him by now and the hitting and electrocuting had become part of his every day. It didn't make it any more pleasant, but Stryker really had a limited repertoire. 

Stryker raised his hand again and Charles met his eyes, refusing to show the man any fear. He could taste the coppery tang of blood and figured he'd probably bitten the inside of his cheek, or maybe his tongue.

The light flickered again - this time more than it had at any point before. For a second, Charles thought the light might go out altogether. Then it returned. Just in time for him to see the look of surprise on Stryker's face.

Charles suddenly realized something _was_ off. Without access to his gift, he had trouble judging reactions, but the look on Stryker's face was definitely of interest to him. Because if anything happened that might ruin Stryker's day, it might aid Charles. Even if it didn't offer the means for an escape, anything that could sour Stryker's operation was worth considering.

Pushing through the headache, Charles reached out with his mind as he'd always done, and for a split second it was as it had been since he'd used the serum the last time. Nothing. Nothing but an echoing emptiness. Then there was a flash of something. Charles reached for it and cursed silently as it felt like sand running through his fingers.

"Keep an eye on him," Stryker told the two guards right inside the door before leaving Charles on his own.

Charles had a wild moment to wonder if it was just a ploy from Stryker to make him hope for help. Then he noticed the nervousness of one of the guards. Charles really wished that he still had his gift and the guards weren't wearing those infernal helmets. Really, Shaw had a lot to answer for. So did Erik, really, for taking the helmet afterwards.

Charles squashed the anger. It wasn't really Erik's fault, now was it? Apparently it was just something Charles brought out in people. Poor little Charles Xavier, once again all alone. Well, right now he really did wish he could be alone. Maybe he could work the straps holding him to the table loose?

A sound almost like thunder could be heard far off and Charles was sure that the room was shaking a little. The two guards exchanged looks. Much to Charles' surprise, they both turned around and walked out the door, obviously securing it behind them.

Charles stayed where he was, for a few moments, then moved against the straps, testing their hold. They were tight, but maybe- He hadn't been fighting them much the last many times they'd come to get him and it had apparently paid off, because the straps were nowhere near as tight as they had been the first few times, where Charles had fought tooth and nail and more than once been drugged. He'd stopped fighting when he realized it wasn't getting him anywhere and the drugging was getting to the point where he had trouble keeping track of anything, let alone the 'conversations' with Stryker.

Charles had no idea for how long he was alone in the room, but he filled the time with twisting and turning as much as he could, until he managed to get his arm out from under one strap. He stared at it in surprise for a moment. How lucky could one be? He was going to pay for it later, the abuse to his tendons and muscles, but he had one hand free and it was enough to slowly work the buckle of the strap across his upper body open.

It felt as if he had worn the skin off the tips of his fingers, but he managed, finally to get it open and after that he had room enough to get to the other straps. Stumbling off the bed, Charles winced as his bare feet hit the cold floor. But it was only a little nuisance as he hadn't been able to walk for so long. And he wasn't being dragged along by guards, either.

The door proved to be another problem and Charles glared at it, cursing the fact that there was no way for him to open it from the inside. There was a card-reader next to it that Charles had seen Stryker and the guards use, but he had nothing to unlock it with.

Charles leaned his forehead against the door, feeling the cold metal biting into his skin. Something tickled his attention, but it took a moment before Charles found the energy to pay it any attention. 

The sensation of a mind. Vague, barely tangible to him, but there, right outside the bloody door! Charles closed his eyes and focused, again leaning up against the door, pressing himself forward to minimize the distance as much as possible.

Charles bit the inside of his cheek. If he could-

Quieting the rush of adrenaline running through his body, making his mind slow down and focus singularly on the mind outside, he pushed at it, suggesting that the man unlock the door. 

Nothing happened.

Charles pressed the knuckles of one hand against his temple, trying his old focus tricks and for a long few seconds nothing happened.

The click of the lock was like sweet music, though Charles thought wildly, what the hell was he supposed to do now? He was in no state to fight and if it had taken this much energy and focus to even get through to the man outside, then-

The door swung open and Charles lashed out with everything he had, watching in surprise as the guard sank to his feet, eyes closed.

With the door open, Charles could feel his mind clearly, so clearly in fact, that it was almost too loud. Shielding of some sort, his mind supplied. The guard outside hadn't been wearing a helmet, and at no point, during Charles going back and forth from the cell, had he seen any guards without helmets. They'd made sure that he couldn't reach anyone he could influence. Which meant-

Which meant that Hank had succeeded! Charles bit back a whoop of excitement. He had to be very careful, because if most of the guards outside were wearing helmets, he probably wouldn't even feel them coming.

Taking a deep breath, Charles tried to reach out with his mind again and this time he got _something_. It wasn't unlike what he'd felt when he'd been at the school and Stryker's minions had attacked. Like a feeling of fuzzy thoughts - not clear enough to hear, not clear enough to influence, but _there_.

And no one was close enough to have seen him coercing the guard outside the door to let him out. Charles knelt down to check the man's pulse, then felt out his unconscious mind. With a sigh of relief, he realized he hadn't fried the man's brain, which had been a great enough risk. Charles had pushed at him as if there'd been a barrier between them still, but there'd been nothing.

Now came the challenge. Getting out of a facility whose layout he didn't know, not to mention he lacked knowledge of its location.

\---~~~---

Pressed to make a comparison, Charles would say that the sounds he could hear in the distance was fighting. There was the rat-a-tat-tat of a weapon and the sound of energy discharging. Charles sincerely hoped Stryker was getting his just dessert. Tenfold.

He wondered, as he made his way down the deserted hallways, if there were others in the facility - other mutants. He couldn't feel anyone, but now that he knew his gift wasn't gone, he kept putting out feelers. He could even tell that there were soldiers not wearing helmets somewhere in the midst of the fighting. He reached out to them, trying to see through their eyes, but all it netted him was a headache and a severe case of vertigo.

He could, however, tell that they were being kept busy. There was a guard farther up ahead, and the curiously fuzzy almost blank space a little farther on from his position. So probably at least one guard wearing one of the helmets. As Charles crept forward, he wished he had taken the other guard's boots. His feet were beginning to numb from the cold.

When he took a quick look around the next corner, he realized why he could feel one guard so clearly. The stupid idiot had taken off his helmet. Charles didn't think twice, just dove right in, forcing him into swinging the butt of his weapon around, connecting with the other guard's face. Then, just because he could, he made the man do the same to himself.

Charles stepped over the two unconscious bodies on the floor and came to a stop by the door they had been guarding. There was nothing to tell him what to expect on the other side. There was no little window for him to peek through. Next to the door was a plate with the number 48. Charles wondered how many other numbered rooms there might be and what they may hold.

He could continue down the hallway, but something was poking his curiosity - even if he should be getting himself out while Stryker and his minions were busy elsewhere, there was something-

Charles searched one of the fallen guards and found a keycard that corresponded with the reader next to the door. Just to be on the safe side, he took the guard's gun as well - not entirely sure if he'd have the stomach to use it if cornered. He couldn't feel anyone on the other side of the door, but that didn't mean there wasn't someone there. Charles was beginning to understand that he shouldn't underestimate his enemies.

Thankfully there weren't any guards on the other side, because Charles forgot to check for a moment just staring at the rows of cells much like the one he'd been kept in. But apparently he'd warranted being kept isolated, because he hadn't seen anyone else, and a lot of these cells were occupied!

"Holy shit," Charles said before he could stop himself, staring into one of the cells. The cells were all made with some sort of frosted glass that allowed him to see only shadows on the other side.

Charles looked around and noticed the keypad next to the door of the cell. He didn't really have the time to figure out any sequence that might allow him to open it, so he aimed the gun at the keypad, shooting it once, twice, watching the sparks fly.

He quickly stepped aside, just to be on the safe side, when the door swung open and he came face to face with none other than Alex Summers.

Alex had a fist raised as he barreled through the now open door, skidding to a halt when he found Charles waiting for him. He stared silently at him for a moment and Charles wondered what he was seeing. He slowly lowered his hand and shook his head.

"Professor?" He sounded like he wasn't entirely sure that he believed his own eyes. If Stryker had put him through the wringer as well, Charles couldn't really blame him for not trusting his own eyes.

"It's good to see you, Alex," Charles said, holding himself back for a moment. He had no way of knowing what Alex 9had been through since they'd said their goodbyes and the boy… man, had gone off to Vietnam.

"Oh hell," Alex said, face almost crumbling, before he stumbled forward and pulled Charles into a hug.

Laughing to cover the choked noise threatening to escape him, Charles put his arms around Alex as well. He wasn't sure for how long they stood there, but eventually they both straightened and stared at each other.

"Got you too, huh?" Alex asked, something in his voice a little off.

Charles nodded. "I don't know for how long they've kept me here, but they attacked the school."

"Are the others here?" Alex looked expectantly at him.

"I hope not," Charles said quietly. "A lot has happened since we last saw each other, and I don't think this is the right time or place to reminisce."

Alex blinked rapidly, then nodded. "Good point." He turned to the other cells. "There are children here!"

Charles winced. "Yes, it seems Stryker doesn't care what age we are - if we're a potential threat or weapon, he'll take us. I didn't even know there was anyone else here until I came through the door."

Alex shot him a questioning look. 

"I think they have this place shielded with something like ...Magneto's helmet," Charles explained. "I thought I'd lost my telepathy again for a while, but when I finally managed to get out, I could feel some of the minds around me - the guards at least."

"Again?" Alex asked, turning to the next cell along the row and blasted it, though his power didn't seem as potent as it used to. Charles was glad though, to see an even greater level of control than Alex had shown at the school.

"Long story," Charles muttered. "Are you okay? Your blast seems to be less strong."

"Long story like you walking?" Alex asked with a wry grin. "I haven't seen sunlight in who knows how long, I haven't 'recharged' at any point."

Charles held out the gun. "Use this instead - save your energy for when it is really needed."

"How did you get out?" Alex asked as he blasted another cell lock.

Charles watched as some of the inmates, barely teenagers some of them, stumbled into the room with them. "We mean you no harm, but we have to stay together to get out," he told them. Turning to Alex, he shrugged. "Part luck and coincidence," he admitted. "Something or someone is attacking the facility, I think. Stryker ran off and the guard they left behind wasn't wearing a helmet - I managed to get him to open the door for me."

"A hell of a coincidence," Alex said.

Charles frowned. It wasn't something he hadn't wondered himself, that maybe it was a trap. "I can tell that something's going on somewhere in that direction," Charles said, pointing to his left. "I actually think we're in luck and someone's keeping the guards busy."

"X-men?" Alex asked curiously as he let a little girl out, her white hair tangled and a stark contrast to her dark skin.

Charles sighed. "There are none of us left, not enough to call us that anymore, anyway," he admitted.

Alex looked like he wanted to ask, but then shook his head. "Later?"

Charles nodded. If they got out alive that was. He realized with a sinking heart he couldn't just walk away from the facility. What if they had information on them hidden away somewhere? "Get them out of here," he told Alex, trying to sound more sure of himself than he really felt.

"You're not coming?" Alex asked, stopping dead.

Charles shook his head. "I'll follow behind," he promised. "But I have to figure out if they have any information on us, intel." Maybe autopsies, but he didn't want to say that out loud.

Alex huffed out a breath. "Okay, Professor, you're the boss. But I don't know where to go - hell, I don't even know where we are."

"Neither do I," Charles admitted. "Get them out, find a phone and call Hank. I only have a phone number we agreed on, where I would leave a message when the danger was gone. For the sake of their safety, if our attackers got me, I couldn't know where they were." It was only a half-truth. Charles had hoped that if he stayed away from Hank, at least the school could carry on elsewhere, no distrust from the parents. Hank didn't have an invasive gift the way Charles did and with the aid of the serum, he could pass for a normal human being. Enough to placate the more distrustful parents.

Shaking his head. He touched his temple. Mostly out of habit. "May I?" he asked. "I can implant the number in your mind, help you remember it when you get to a phone," he elaborated when he saw the wince on Alex's face.

Et tu, Brute, Charles thought sourly, before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, just stay away from anything that looks like memories from Vietnam," Alex muttered.

"I won't see anything," Charles assured him. "I'm just leaving a note in your mind so you can remember it."

When Alex nodded, Charles gave him the number. It wasn't a direct number, but it would get a message through to Hank, who hopefully wasn't too far away for him to be able to help Alex and the mutants they had gotten out of the cells.

What if there were other cells in the facility? He'd have to look while searching for an archive. He couldn't walk away in good conscience if they had anything that would help them kill mutants. If they had more cells with people in them - people who had been taken against their will.

Charles stepped back out into the hallway he'd come from and liberated the other guard of his keycard. He touched the man's head and searched for any information on getting out. He found a few and realized one of the service elevators was apparently in the opposite direction of where the fighting was happening.

"Professor?" Alex called when he'd finished speaking to the children.

"Just a second, Alex," Charles said, poking around the unconscious mind of the guard to see if there was indeed an archival room somewhere. He found something that might just fit the bill. He stepped back into the room and handed the keycard to Alex. "This will make it easier to get out. I checked the guard's mind and there's a service elevator down that way." He pointed down the outside corridor. "It should keep you well away from the fighting - any resistance you might run into, I hope you can handle."

Alex nodded. "I'll get them out and contact Hank, then we'll come back for you."

Charles gave him a pained smile. "Don't do anything stupid, Alex, you're in charge of these people now."

Alex made a face at him, but nevertheless lead the children away.

Charles allowed himself a small smile. Alex might not always have agreed with him or trusted him, but Charles had tried to show him that he could make a good leader, someone other people listened to. With Alex's past, it wasn't a wonder that he didn't trust easily and he never expected people to listen to him when he spoke.

They parted ways and Charles continued down the corridor he knew would get him to the room he'd seen in the guard's mind. Finding it wasn't a problem, but he was fairly sure he could hear the fighting getting closer, which would severely limit the time he had for this.

The guard hadn't known of any other cells than the ones he'd been guarding and Charles had to trust in this, because he wasn't entirely sure how much more time he had at his disposal. And destroying their information was a pretty damned high priority.

Charles took a moment to lean against the wall, taking a deep breath. His ribs ached and his feet were cold, but he refused to give up. He could hear shouting in the distance and steeled himself, slipping farther down the corridor until he got to an unmarked door. Again, he couldn't feel anyone on the other side and hoped he was right as he swiped the keycard through the reader and pushed the door open. The room that lay beyond was dark, but as he stepped in, the light came on automatically, nearly causing his heart to stop beating for a moment.

Charles stared at the room. Rows and rows of archive cabinets, all locked of course. Now if he could only completely destroy this room, he'd be fine. With a sigh, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the corridor. He was going to have to find something to use to destroy it, explosives, petrol, whatever he could.

He still kept his mind out for anyone, yet he nearly screamed out loud as he stepped out of the room, more or less slamming into someone who was coming down the corridor in a rush.

\---~~~---

Everything happened too quickly for him to see. Charles threw his weight into the punch and his knuckles skittered across something metallic and his hands were caught in mid-air. His momentum carried himself as well as his opponent into the wall opposite the door.

Bringing his knee up, Charles went for the most obvious target, and finally pushed back to get a look. Staring he had to blink a couple of times to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was.

"Bloody hell, Erik! Could you do me the favor and _not_ sneak up on me like that?" he spat out, tightening his hold on Erik's jacket. Mostly because he still wasn't entirely convinced that he wasn't seeing things.

"Yeah, we have to stop meeting like this," Erik said, bent slightly forward as Charles had apparently hit his target.

"If you hadn't been wearing that stupid helmet again, this wouldn't have happened," Charles said acidly, feeling the adrenaline rush diminishing, leaving him feeling tired to the bone.

"I had to be sure that Stryker hadn't managed to brainwash you," Erik growled back, straightening up. He stared at Charles. "You're walking again," he said flatly.

"I had to make a last minute decision," Charles said, taking in Erik's getup. The style hadn't changed much. Still looked like a wanker, if anyone asked him. "And Hank's been tinkering - I've still got my telepathy." The last he added as a warning.

Erik stared at him. "And Stryker didn't manage to break you." It wasn't a question.

Charles pulled away from him, standing straight in front of Erik, meeting his eyes. "I'm not made of glass."

Something shifted on Erik's face, and the corner of his mouth curved up into a half smile. "I know," he said. "You're stronger than I'd expected - I came here looking for you and here you are - halfway out without help."

Charles wasn't sure what to say to Erik's praise. "I wasn't on my way out," he said instead. As always Erik made him feel slightly off balance and it was annoying as hell. "They have information on us that I would rather make sure is destroyed."

Erik stared at him for moment, then nodded.

Charles led him back inside the room. "This is what we need to destroy."

"Your wish is my command," Erik said. He reached out and all the metal shelves and cabinets started shaking, crumbling in on themselves, tearing themselves and the information inside them to shreds.

Charles had to admit, at least to himself, that Erik was handy to have around. At least when you wanted stuff destroyed.

When the sound of metal being scraped together and balled up died off, they stared at the destruction. Charles shook his head. Well, he'd have had to waste time looking for something to blow up the place if Erik hadn't showed up.

"We're leaving now," Erik said, turning to escort Charles out the door.

Charles decided to not argue on this, even if he did find Erik's tone a little condescending.

Erik trailed behind him as they returned to the corridor. He touched Charles' shoulder lightly when they came to an intersection. "This way."

It nagged Charles for a moment, having to ask, but then again, he needed the information. "Do you know for how long I've been in here?"

Erik didn't answer him at first, and Charles chanced a look behind him, meeting Erik's pained expression.

"Or don't I want to know?" Charles asked, for the first time since he'd gotten out of Stryker's lab faltering a little.

"I wish I'd found you earlier," Erik said quietly.

"If wishes were horses, Erik - for how long was I in here?" Charles pressed.

"You were moved around a lot," Erik said as they turned down another hallway. "Every time I got anywhere near finding you, they'd move you."

"Erik-" Charles was getting very annoyed with him by now. Sure, the man had obviously put some energy into finding and freeing him, but it still didn't answer his question.

"Nine months since the school was attacked," Erik replied. "I think they kept you under sedation while moving you around."

Charles stopped and Erik almost walked into him. "Nine months?!" Nine months since he'd been taken. He turned around and stared at Erik.

Erik didn't quite meet his eyes. "A lot has happened, Charles. And I will tell you, but I would really prefer to not do it in here."

Charles nodded. Damn it. Erik moved a hand and a loud bang made Charles turn around again. A guard was on the floor - unconscious. At least he wasn't dead.

Charles wasn't sure what to say. He still couldn't quite get over it having been nine months. Erik was probably right. They'd kept him sedated for a while before he'd been questioned. Either the cells were all alike in the various facilities, or he'd been kept under until he'd gotten to this place.

"I found Alex," Charles suddenly said, realizing that Erik might not have run into them. Hopefully he hadn't. Charles hoped Alex had made it out in the opposite direction of where Erik had obviously been fighting.

"Havok?" Erik sounded surprised.

"Alex," Charles corrected, feeling more than a little annoyed. "Raven told me she'd gotten him and a few others out of Vietnam, away from Stryker, but it seems he got picked up again some time he got back to the US."

"Stryker's been picking off our people for a while now," Erik said. "I've hit several facilities, but I kept coming in a day or two too late, the facilities were empty."

"I remember Logan, the Logan who came from the future," Charles said, running the keycard through the reader next to a door barring their way. "He said Stryker would some day cause him a lot of pain - I can't imagine someone who could make such an impression on Logan would be an easy man to beat."

Erik didn't argue with that, and for a little while, they carried on without exchanging another word. They walked past a part of the corridor with metal plating along one side when Erik stopped him. "Ventilation shaft," he said in explanation, before gesturing and peeling the metal aside, revealing the shaft he'd mentioned.

Charles stared into it, felt the wind tugging at him. Sticking his head through the opening, he looked down and realized he couldn't see the bottom of it. Turning around to argue that this was a bad idea, he found Erik staring at him, a strange look on his face that smoothed out a second later.

"Trust me?" Erik said, holding out his hand.

Charles stared at his hand, then back up to meet Erik's eyes. They didn't have a hell of a lot of time. Quite frankly he wondered if Erik had killed everyone in the facility - if it wasn't because he could still feel them some way off.

Erik sighed, reached up and pulled his helmet off. Holding it out to Charles, he waited for a response.

Charles stared at it. That infernal thing. He didn't touch Erik's mind, though it was a familiar beacon right there, right at the edge of his consciousness. It had been a while since he'd felt it like this. Taking the helmet, Charles held Erik's gaze as he considered throwing it down the shaft. Then again. "I would love to drop it down the shaft," Charles said drily, "but I don't think we should leave anything they can use to their advantage here, do you?"

Erik quirked a grin, then let the helmet hover into the shaft and up. He reached out and put his hands on Charles' waist, sliding them around to the back as he stepped in close. "Hang on," he said.

Charles swallowed hard but did as he was told. He put his arms around Erik's neck as Erik lifted the both of them off the ground, into the shaft and upwards. He knew perfectly well that Erik wouldn't drop him, but it didn't mean Charles wasn't hanging on for dear life.

"What did you do to keep the guards away from us?" Charles asked as they moved slowly upward. "I take it you were the source of the fighting I heard earlier."

Erik chuckled, a rumble that Charles could feel through his chest. "It's amazing how much metal they have in the walls," he replied.

"You didn't bury them alive, did you?" Charles asked. He was fairly sure Erik hadn't, because the kind of fear that would have created would have come through loud and clear.

"As tempted as I was, no," Erik replied.

Charles wondered why not. It would have been easy enough, he'd thought. It would have been very Erik as well.

"We're at the top," Erik said suddenly and Charles looked up, staring at the top of the shaft, covered by a metal vent.

"Hang on a second," Charles said, reaching out to sense if anyone was near. "I don't think they know where we're coming out," he guessed. "There's no one near the vents." He brushed his mind against Alex's and found they were farther away than he'd dared hope for.

Erik cocked his head to the side and the top of the air vent peeled off like the lid of a can. The sound it made set Charles' teeth on edge, but he wasn't going to argue with Erik as a gust of fresh air hit his face. It was dark out there, stars twinkling in the sky.

When they were safely back on the ground, Charles took a moment to look around - there wasn't much to see, no light but the stars and moon above. All he could make out was sand underneath his bare feet. "Desert?" he asked.

"New Mexico," Erik said quietly. He didn't step back, just kept his hands perched on Charles' hips.

Feeling a little uneasy, Charles broke their contact, stepping back to catch his bearings. "Are you going to shut this facility down?" he asked.

Erik nodded. "I caved in their weapons rooms and the ones that had been used for labs," he said. "But I won't kill them if you ask me not to."

Charles stared at him, wishing there was enough light for him to make out Erik's face. "Why?"

"Why what?" Erik asked quietly.

"Why would you care how I feel about this?" Charles asked curiously.

Erik didn't answer right away. Then he huffed out a breath, a small mirthless laugh. "I need to know that even being in the hands of these people, you haven't changed. We… I need you the way you are, strong, sure of yourself and with an inherent belief in the good in all people."

Charles held his breath for a moment. "And if I want you to bury them?" Charles didn't really think that he'd ever ask this of Erik, but there had been times during his incarceration by Stryker, where he'd come close to wanting them dead.

Erik lifted one hand, as if he was going to reach out for Charles, then aborted the move. "A lot has happened in the past six months, Charles - I have a hard time seeing the good in anyone these days - mutant or human."

Charles was itching to pick Erik's brain for answers, but he knew better than to try that. Erik had always valued his privacy greatly and the last thing Charles needed right now was turning Erik against him. Currently his only ally.

"Bury the entrances and exits," Charles said, feeling the coldness steal through his bones. "Let them dig their way out."

Erik stood still. "A compromise, I guess," he said, a little less tense. "I think if you'd asked me to spare everyone, I would have been worried about your mental state - after what they did to you in there. But you're not asking me to outright kill them." He was quiet for another moment. "Good," he added. "That's… good."

Now Charles really wanted to pick that brain apart. He waited for Erik as the other man turned around, hands raised as if he was about to conduct an invisible orchestra. The ground underneath them shook a little, and gusts of sand blew up here and there. Enough for Charles to see, and wonder what was going on underneath the surface, how scared the guards were - how frightened Stryker hopefully was.

Charles checked Alex' whereabouts and realized again that he and the escaping captives were farther off than expected. Something seemed to shimmer between Charles and their minds and then they were not… where they had been.

Possibly one of the children they'd freed had been a teleporter of some kind. It took some of the weight off Charles' shoulders. To know that they were getting away and they were getting away fast.

"What is your plan from here?" Charles asked, staring at the helmet as it drifted into Erik's hand and Erik returned to him, apparently done with what he'd set out to do. Charles didn't check the minds of the people below them. If Erik had killed any of them, even without intent, he didn't want to know.

He wondered if he should be more worried about that choice than he was.

"Safe-house and then planning." Erik met his eyes. "You also need to catch up on what's been going on and you need _rest_."

Charles almost opened his mouth to argue, simply out of habit when around Erik. He huffed out a small laugh. "I guess that is one thing I can't argue with," he admitted. He needed information. More than Erik's revelation to him that he'd been gone for nine months.

\---~~~---

Charles wasn't sure for how long he was out. When he woke up it was late in the evening, he was hungry, thirsty and quite comfortable in the bed he'd been sleeping in.

Thinking back, he lay there in the half-dark, going over what had happened. Erik had lifted them out of the desert the same way he'd gotten them up through the ventilation shaft. Charles had to admit that he was more than a little impressed with Erik's control. Not that lifting up a stadium wasn't impressive, but Charles had been a little busy and on the opposing side, so he hadn't really had time to be impressed. And he'd been annoyed with Erik, disappointed that he'd turned against him again.

Since then he'd gone over what he'd do if he… _when_ he faced Erik again. All the disappointment and anger, however, had fallen behind all the other more important matters. Such as getting out of the facility and the fact that Erik had taken the helmet off and tried to hand it to him, as soon as he'd been convinced that Charles hadn't been under Stryker's control.

Charles closed his eyes for a moment. It had always been easier holding a grudge against Erik when he did as Charles expected of him. It was when he deviated that Charles felt on unstable ground. Like when Charles, like most others knowing Erik's gift, had thought it clear that a curved bullet had meant Erik had killed JFK. And then Erik had dropped the bomb that Kennedy had been one of their own, putting his own deed into a completely different light.

Charles had spent some time wondering what their situation might have been had Kennedy still been alive. Someone like them in the White House? Of course he'd hoped things would develop in a more positive direction after Raven had saved Nixon, but while it hadn't all gone to hell, true, Stryker had been left to his own devices, maybe even supported by the government. And he'd chosen to target the school.

Getting out of the bed, Charles realized just how sore he was. How strained his muscles were from the months of disuse and then the occasional workout or electroshock, not to mention the sudden abuse when he'd escaped the facility. He felt tired to the bone - in more than one way. Sure, physical weariness played a great part in it, but there was also the battle he'd seemingly fought since he'd first tried to get the school up and running. Hank had been a great help, but between him and Charles, it just hadn't been enough. They had obviously failed in setting up a utopia for their kind - which, strictly speaking, hadn't been Charles' intention anyway.

All he'd wanted was to create a safe haven, where mutant children could feel safe and learn to control their gifts. A safe haven that had welcomed in adults as well. Anyone who was a mutant who needed to see that they weren't alone, that they didn't have to fear themselves or live in fear of others.

Charles realized that he still didn't know what had happened since he'd been taken captive. And the more he thought about how Erik had said it, had mentioned that a lot had happened in the nine months, the more worried he became.

Finding clean clothes folded on the chair next to the bed, Charles realized that Erik must have left it there for him. He dressed in the jeans and t-shirt left for him, reaching out with his mind, not sure of his welcome.

 _'I'm in the kitchen, out the door, down the corridor, down the stairs to the right.'_ Erik answered his inquiry, barely startled by Charles' mental prodding.

Charles walked through the mostly dark house. It wasn't huge, nothing like the mansion, but it seemed to be a two story home, not much furniture that he could see, but serviceable enough. He thought about another shower, but he'd managed one before stumbling into bed, asleep by the time his head had hit the pillow.

As he descended the stairs, Charles realized he could smell food. Walking through the door to the kitchen, he found a cozy little kitchen, tiled floor and walls, warm and welcoming with the heat from the stove. Apparently Erik had been busy, because there was scrambled eggs, toast and bacon on the table - and Charles knew Erik didn't eat bacon, so that had to be for his benefit.

"Sit," Erik said brusquely, not quite meeting his eyes before he turned back to the toaster to take the two pieces of bread that were ready. "Eat first, then we'll talk."

Charles wasn't going to argue with him on that, not with his stomach growling at him. He might have made a small indecent sound when Erik put a mug of tea in front of him, a bottle of milk next to it and sugar as well.

It did seem Erik still remembered all his preferences, even after all these years.

Charles forced himself to eat as slowly as possible. He hadn't had all that much to eat on a daily basis at the facility and quite frankly, he couldn't remember when he'd last had anything to eat. The tea, while not quite up to his usual standards, was still heaven. The food was perfect and once he pushed the empty plate away, enjoying the tea, he focused on Erik.

"Do you want more?" Erik asked, this time meeting his gaze straight on.

Charles shook his head. "Maybe more tea in a bit," he amended. "I think it's time you tell me what's happened since I was taken by Stryker."

Erik nodded. "I need you to know that when we thought Emma was dead, it wasn't the truth," he began. "I'd been led to believe she was dead, along with Riptide. Riptide escaped Trask's capture and went underground - I know he's on the run, but I have no idea where he currently is. Emma…" Erik made a face.

"Cut a deal?" Charles asked once he was over his initial surprise. He wanted to ask if any of the others they'd thought dead might still be alive as well.

Erik held his gaze. "I know what you want to ask - and no - I've come across no other proof that any of the others are alive."

Charles' shoulders sagged. For a moment there, he'd felt a glimmer of hope again.

"I found out about Emma through Riptide. I ran into him just after his escape and he told me that Emma had been working with the US government to rebuild Cerebro."

Charles blanched.

"They'd hit a few bumps along the way," Erik continued. "They suspected that you might have rebuilt it-"

"And that's why they attacked the school," Charles said, a little surprised. He'd thought himself and the children the targets.

"Partly - anything and anyone they could have gotten their hands on would have been an accessory to them," Erik corrected.

Charles nodded. "If you're curious, Hank built a security system that enabled me to destroy both Cerebro and our archives before I fled the house."

Erik nodded. "I know as much as we don't always agree, Charles, you're no fool. Naive at times, yes, but I'm glad to hear that you had safety measures in place."

"So what did Emma do apart from help the wrong people?" Charles asked. He didn't like the thin line of Erik's lips - the look in his eyes. Like he was about to share with Charles something he knew would cause no little displeasure.

"A week or so after your capture, Emma stood forward in Congress, Stryker wanted to use her to show how dangerous a telepath can be." Erik paused for a moment. "I think she thought she was doing the right thing - I can imagine Emma being fed up with the politicians and their stupidity in general - and she does unfortunately enjoy showing off."

Charles stared at him for a moment, feeling his stomach sinking with the realization he really wasn't going to like what Erik was about to tell him.

"She took over the minds of several members and made them act out of character, then pulled sensitive information from their minds, sharing it with the rest of them," Erik took a sip of his coffee.

Charles held his breath for a moment. "What happened after?"

Erik sat back in his chair, palms flat on the table. "I think she was possibly so tired of dancing to their tune, that she showed them just how powerful she was, manipulated them into not noticing her leaving and made herself scarce."

"How did they react?" Charles asked, not really wanting to know. Even if he could imagine.

"As you would expect," Erik said. "They started discussing how to best keep us in check, how to make sure we couldn't hurt anyone and then they started working on a registration act - with a sub-clause specifically for telepaths."

Charles rubbed his eyes. "What was the sub-clause?" he eventually asked.

"Any mutant is free to live as he or she should wish, as long as they are not a danger to those around them - telepaths, upon discovered, are to be turned over to the government, for detention in specifically built installations."

"They'd be shielded like the one Stryker had me holed up in." Charles shook his head.

"I wish I didn't have more to add," Erik said quietly. He looked down at his own hands, breaking eye contact. "When I told the mutants in the group I'd put together that I intended to free a telepath, most of them balked at it."

Charles didn't comment. It wasn’t exactly a huge surprise, but still… "They didn't know me."

Erik shook his head. "It was probably my fault, partly. I'd retrieved the helmet and wore it, especially after I found out about Emma. They saw their leader not trusting telepaths and then suddenly I suggested we liberate one."

Charles sank into the chair, feeling sick to the stomach. He reached out absentmindedly and put his hand on top of Erik's. "I can't really blame you for keeping safe from Miss Frost." And if Stryker had managed to turn Charles, it really had been the smartest thing to do.

"It didn't even go through Congress. The Executive Order was issued..." Erik paused. He stared at Charles' hand but didn't move his own. "They implemented it three months ago. What they hadn't told the public was that everyone even suspected of being a mutant would be rounded up like cattle and tested to see if they were a danger to those around them. A lot of people walked back out of there, but some were kept and that started a certain unrest in the public - humans and mutants both. People who weren't even particularly dangerous didn't always come back."

Charles squeezed his hand. "How bad did it get?"

"Demonstrations - most of them peaceful - or at least they started out that way," Erik said.

"I'm surprised you aren't out there raining fire and brimstone on them," Charles said, still a little confused as to why Erik was doing things this way. He'd be lying if he claimed Erik wasn't a constant source of confusion to him. Once upon a time, Charles had thought they could work together, could try to make the world a better place for their kind. Maybe, initially, he'd hoped there'd be more between them than friendship as well. Of course then Erik had left them and it had all started going downhill.

"I…" Erik lifted his eyes again and Charles almost dove in, because there was something there, something had happened-

"I met a young mutant - blind. But she can see possible futures." He shook his head. "It should have been enough to listen to Logan, but I don't think it really started making sense until Irene put it into perspective for me."

For a moment, Charles was intrigued by hearing of this young woman, then brought his focus back. "What did she tell you?"

"She came to me, specifically, to talk about you," Erik admitted.

Charles didn't miss that Erik still hadn't moved his hand from under Charles'.

"She said that we were standing in front of another crossroad. She knew that we'd changed the timeline when Logan traveled back to 1973, said that it had almost worked, but that the possible futures we have ahead, almost all of them have us failing." Erik looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

Charles wondered why, but he didn't interrupt him, just nodded to let him go on.

"She told me that I'm an important part of the future," Erik continued. "She also told me that if I choose to walk that road alone, I'll most certainly set us down a path that will leave none of us alive."

"Erik-" Charles began. He wasn't even sure how to end that sentence.

"She told me that if I walk it alone, you die. Every possible future she saw, you died. Every possible future, our kind were hunted down and _used_. You weren't there, you weren't there to temper me, you weren't there to shelter us."

Erik's hand underneath Charles' was shaking, like he couldn't help himself, like he wasn't quite in control.

Charles gripped Erik's hand with both his and held on, not taking his eyes from Erik's. There was that look again, the one Charles had caught a glimpse of right after Erik had gotten them out. And this time he realized it for what it was: pain, regret - a haunted look that did not sit well with him.

The cutlery in the kitchen was rattling, the pots were as well. "Erik!" Charles considered slapping him, but he didn't want to let go to do so. "Erik, get a grip on yourself!"

The rattling stopped and Erik blinked rapidly, breath short, almost hyperventilating. "Charles…"

Charles shook his head, stood up and stepped around the table, never letting go of Erik's hand. He stepped in close to Erik, between his legs, unsure of exactly what to do. Not that he was left to wonder for long, Erik put his free arm around Charles' waist, burying his face against Charles' chest.

Letting go of Erik's hand, Charles managed to free one arm and put it awkwardly around Erik's shoulders. He wasn't sure what to say, what he _could_ say, that would take that look of pain away. He had no experience in dealing with Erik like this. Had never seen him this shaken.

And for something that hadn't happened yet, something that wouldn't necessarily happen. Charles let go of Erik's hand altogether, putting both arms around his shoulders, just hanging on. "Erik, will you let me in; let me see?" He had to see what could possibly have made such an impression on Erik. What could have rattled him like this?

Erik let his head fall back, meeting Charles' eyes again. "Yes."

If Erik's eyes hadn't scared him, the instant accept of Charles inside his head did. "Erik."

"Just do it. I can't say this in a way that won't sound completely weird and unbelievable," Erik said tiredly.

As much as Charles had sworn time and time again that he wasn't ever touching Erik's mind again, he found himself falling into it, as easy as ever. And much to his surprise, he didn't feel like he was intruding. If anything, he felt welcome.

Erik didn't have to push the memories at him. It was all there, at the forefront of his thoughts. A young woman sitting across from him, sharing visions of how the future would look. For every argument Erik put forward, she gave him a new outcome and with every outcome, Charles could tell how desperate Erik became for a different answer.

Charles came back out of Erik's head with a gasp, feeling a little unsteady on his feet. He found himself leaning heavily on Erik and Erik's face a lot closer than he'd expected.

Erik's eyes flickered to Charles lips and back to his eyes and Charles couldn't help but lean in, stopping with barely a scant inch between them.

"I can't do this on my own, I'm not meant to do this on my own," Erik said quietly, his breath hot against Charles' lips.

"You don't have to," Charles replied, burning to close the distance.

"I should have listened, should have understood," Erik continued. "You told me yourself, when you dragged me up for air."

"You're not alone," Charles finished for him. "You're not-"

Erik closed the distance between them, his lips chapped against Charles', shutting him up.

Charles should have maybe been surprised, but it felt- it felt right, as if this was where they'd been heading all along. Simply with a few too many obstacles in the way. He let Erik take some of his weight, burying his fingers in Erik's hair and deepening the kiss.

Erik ran his hands up and down Charles' back and inevitably brushed over one of the bruises, making Charles wince. Which unfortunately made Erik stop what he was doing, gently pulling away from him.

"You need rest," Erik said, licking his lips and staring hungrily at Charles. "And we need to talk about what we're going to do."

Charles sighed. "Yeah, you're not wrong about the need for planning," he agreed. He leaned in and stole a quick kiss before untangling himself from Erik's hold. He sat back down at the table, giving Erik a nod in thanks as the other man busied himself with pouring Charles some fresh tea.

Wrapping his hands around the warm mug, Charles finally met Erik's eyes and they both froze. Erik was the first one to break the moment, coughing and turning his eyes away as he sat down. He put his hand on the table again and Charles just grinned as he put his own on top of it.

"So, what did you have in mind?" Charles asked.

"I didn't plan that far ahead," Erik said with a shrug. "I was worried about you when I found out about the school, and then Irene came visiting and I had to get you out - with or without help."

"We'll figure something out," Charles said, feeling like he was finally getting back on track. He squeezed Erik's hand again, taking a moment to dare hope for the best.

\---~~~---

Charles hadn't really expected getting things back on the right track was going to be easy. When he'd gone through stacks of newspapers to get caught up, he soon realized that maybe what he'd thought possible had become… nigh to impossible, if not completely out of the realm of the possible.

Mutants had been rounded up far faster than he could have ever imagined it happening. They had to- they had to do something. Had to get these people out.

The problem was how many things they had to do deal with. The camps, for one thing. With their connected facilities - probably a lot like the one Charles had been locked up in. Then there was the legislation itself. Most of the facilities would currently be considered legal due to the Executive Order.

Charles sat up half that night, just wondering what the hell they were going to do, occasionally reading the newspaper articles that Erik had gathered, the military intelligence reports that he'd obviously stolen. Now, if it hadn't been because the TV news supported it, he could almost have convinced himself that Erik had put together all the worst parts for him, had pulled out everything that would support Erik's own agenda.

Oh, how Charles wished that was the case. Erik on a rampage, he knew how to handle, but the whole of the US? So much hatred, so much distrust. And over and over again, psionics were drawn forward. Anyone who was different was taken, yes. But there were reports and articles about the ones going missing having psionic gifts. Empaths, telepaths, mildly psychic - it didn't matter - those didn't seem to ever be returned to their families.

Not to mention the articles about it all. The pro-mutant ones, that was trying to be the voice of reason, that mutants didn't ask to be born the way they were, that it wasn't an abomination. Even those were full of fear of those who could invade a mind, steal a secret, manipulate or control. The more Charles read, the more he found between the lines.

Doubt. Distrust. Suspicion.

He worked through the next day, reading the hearings, shaking his head over their twisting of science fact into something that could be supportive of an anti-mutant cause. He despaired over the news and the hatred it was full of. Erik was a constant shadow around the house. Charles would have expected him to be out and about, but what the young mutant had told him had had a huge impact on him. Charles kept having flashbacks to what he'd seen in Erik's memory.

How had Erik turned around like that? How had he gone from being so defined by his own ideals and beliefs to putting Charles above it all? Even with young Irene's gift, the things she had told with Erik. Charles wanted to believe, wanted so much to believe that Erik was being truthful.

Charles had trusted him twice already. Had put his life in the man's hands and both times he'd nearly died. What had he been thinking when he'd kissed Erik? When he'd given into what had been between them since the very beginning?

And it had been there - neither of them had ever acted on it at first, and Charles had been tempted more than once to look deeper into Erik's mind to see for himself. To see if the attraction was conscious or simply something that Erik acknowledged subconsciously but would never act upon. To know if he would find himself giving into his own desires.

He never had done that to Erik. It had… felt wrong. He could skim the thoughts of people, find out what they liked, what they wanted, what drink they'd prefer. But to go deeply to see if Erik was aware of his own attraction-

A cup of tea was set down in front of him and Charles blinked, looking up at Erik. He felt the overwhelming urge to sink into Erik's mind, so tantalizingly close, now that Erik wasn't wearing the infernal helmet.

Yet he didn't. For all Erik's words, for all that he seemed to have changed his attitude towards Charles' gift, Charles couldn't find it in himself to trust the man's words. Not yet, at least. Once burned, twice shy. Charles didn't acknowledge that perhaps the saying _fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me_ , would be a better choice.

Erik sat down across from him. "Do we try to gather a group again? Or do we do the insane thing and attempt this on our own? I take it we're getting people out."

"It's a short term solution," Charles said. He'd had that idea himself as well, but with the whole camp thing being legalized, it wouldn't be much of a help. However, he had had a flicker of an idea earlier. "You said that Miss Frost had helped Stryker create a new Cerebro."

Erik nodded. "I also know that she gave them the slip. They have a useless Cerebro."

"Until they find someone they can use," Charles said. It had been why Stryker had tried to ...well, brainwash him, probably. To be used. Probably in connection to their version of Cerebro. Especially if Miss Frost had jumped ship.

"I want to go in there - get to Cerebro - their Cerebro. I need the amplification." The idea had taken root and the more Charles thought about it, the more it looked like the only viable long term plan.

Erik just stared at him, his surprise like a physical thing to Charles. "You need the amplification? What for?"

"To do what the world apparently fears a telepath might do - get inside everyone's heads, guards, generals, politicians - make them repeal their laws and let the mutants out." Charles looked at his cup of cooling tea for a moment, then back up, finally meeting Erik's eyes.

"No, Charles-" Erik began.

"Look, right now neither side is particularly endeared to me, Erik. The humans don't trust me because I'm a mutant - and a telepath at that. My own kind, _our_ own kind, don't trust me because I'm a telepath. I'm not about to trust keeping my back clear to someone who won't put the same trust in me." Charles took a deep breath. "Human or mutant - same difference."

Erik looked away. "I trust you," he finally said.

Charles didn't bother to answer. Erik wasn't even meeting his eyes and his mind was pretty much walled off as much as it could be without the damned helmet.

"Charles…"

Charles just stared down into his cup as if it would hold the answers to all his questions.

Erik let out a deep sigh and stood up, taking his own cup and leaving the room.

"I've trusted you twice already," Charles said, too low for Erik to hear as he'd left the room. "How can I be sure you won't put your own ideals above me again? I almost died, Erik - almost died on that beach in Cuba, almost got squashed in Washington. I'll do this alone if I have to. Even if it kills me."

\---~~---

"You never said that Washington would look this bad," Charles said, looking through the binoculars. Well, Erik had said that there had been unrest, demonstrations and in some places riots. What Charles was seeing was areas that looked like bloody war zones. Half demolished buildings, people living in the ruins, so much _fear_ and anger. Some of the areas of the city felt like oozing pits of despair and desperation.

"It's worse than the last time I was here," Erik said from behind him. "The news doesn't cover it either - or at least, they won't show just how bad it has gotten. They'll stoop to show the occasional half destroyed building and blame it on a mutant attack just to ramp the hatred up a little more."

"Some of those buildings look more like they've been hit by military firepower than any mutant - even taking into considering I've seen the type of damage Alex can do," Charles agreed. He spared a moment to wonder if Alex had made it far enough away to contact Hank. He dearly hoped so.

"Do you know where their version of Cerebro is?" Charles asked. "I mean, specific location?"

Erik stepped over next to him. "I do, but I still don't like this."

"I know," Charles replied. "But we need it to get the upper hand and fast."

"Charles-"

"What about the next riot? What about the mutants already in the camps and the facilities?" Charles put the binoculars down on the window sill and stepped away from the window of their hotel room. They were well outside the city center, safe, but they were close enough to see the damage done. He turned to look at Erik. "What about the next time they come for us, when they find a telepath, put him or her in Cerebro and use it to hunt us all down?"

Erik met his eyes dead on and huffed out a breath. "You're beginning to sound like me," he muttered.

Charles laughed, much to his own surprise. "Erik, I'm not going to just sit back and let anyone hunt us down - not if I can help and not even if the rest of the world doesn't trust me."

"For the greater good," Erik muttered.

Charles stepped away from the window, closer to Erik, not breaking their eye contact. He still wasn't sure that he could trust Erik in the long run. He believed that Erik believed his own words, his own promises - at least up until something else changed the playing field. He knew that Erik had believed they were doing the right thing in stopping Raven. That he'd then seen it as the only way out to actually kill her, well, Charles could sort of see how he'd arrived at that solution. It didn't mean he agreed with Erik, but it meant he had a good idea of how Erik's mind worked.

Erik put his hand on Charles' arm, and Charles felt the urge to shrug it off for a split second, then conceded. It wasn't just because it was Erik, but he'd used to being tactile with people. However, since Cuba, and especially since he'd been taken by Stryker, it took less to make him flinch.

"Charles, I'm not going to argue against stopping Stryker, or destroying their Cerebro-" Erik said.

"After we've used it," Charles interjected. He didn't miss the dark look on Erik's face - even if he wasn't entirely sure what it was for.

"You said you trusted me," Charles said quietly. Without skimming Erik's mind, he couldn't be sure if that was the reason for Erik's resistance, but knowing him the way he did, it was a good bet.

Something unfamiliar flashed in Erik's eyes, then he sighed and turned to the window, not meeting Charles' eyes. "It's not that."

Charles just stayed quiet. It would be easy for Erik to tell if Charles had gone into his head and Charles was all too aware of how fragile their ...whatever it was, was. If he did enter Erik's thoughts he would jeopardize all this. Not to mention he needed Erik's intel and help in getting into Cerebro.

"I know that you think I'll turn on you again - eventually," Erik said, his voice low. He turned around to look at Charles. "I know you aren't actively skimming my mind, and I know you saw what you saw when you did read my mind - I don't know how else to get this through to you, Charles - and I know that I haven't exactly earned your trust in the past… If we go in there, the longer we stay there, the more dangerous it becomes, the more your life will be in danger. If we go in to destroy it, it would be quicker - and safer."

Charles stared at him for a few moments, so terribly tempted to push Erik's mental barricades aside, to look, to really _look_ at the truth of Erik's words. "You can't always protect me, Erik." Even from yourself, he almost added.

He might not have said it, but the way Erik's gaze dropped from his, he might as well have voiced them.

\---~~~---

Getting into the facility turned out to be easier than Charles had expected. If he'd had to attempt it on his own, yes, he'd have never gotten anywhere near it, but with Erik's help, it was a lot less hazardous. The guards were, for the most, wearing helmets that kept Charles out, but they had metal that Erik could manipulate. By the fifth guard, they had their method down pat. Erik lifted the helmets and Charles knocked them unconscious. They found the facility was only working on half the crew they had expected, though.

"Maybe they have shelved the project, if they couldn't find a telepath to run it," Erik suggested as they came to one of the inner doors.

"It still doesn't mean we haven't triggered a few silent alarms," Charles muttered, as he felt around for anyone on the other side of the door. "We should work with the assumption that we have a very limited window of opportunity."

"Which we do, if you want to hit Congress while they're in session." Erik fell quiet for a moment. "There's no one moving on the other side of the door, with or without helmet," he said before forcing the door open.

The inside looked a lot like his own Cerebro and Charles turned to look at Erik. "Are you coming in with me?" He wasn't sure if he wanted Erik to or not. On the one hand, Erik was familiar to him, but on the other, trying not to go inside Erik's mind while inside Cerebro would be impossible.

"I'll stay out here and if need be, buy you the time you need," Erik replied. He stared at Charles for a moment, then gave him a small smile. "I'll see you on the other side."

Charles ignored the urge to reach out and touch Erik - he couldn't quite shake the feeling that if it all went pear shaped, this would be the point. This would be the point where, while he was busy trying to get through to set things on the right path, Erik could turn on him again.

Turning around, Charles walked into Cerebro, along the walkway - a little like Hank's original build. Not quite as streamlined and powerful as the one they had built at the mansion. But it would suffice. It had to.

The helmet was a horrible device. He could tell there were ways to strap that helmet onto someone's head without their consent - it could be tightened to a vice that could not be taken off the head unless someone else did it. However, Charles was his own master in there - no one there to force him, no Stryker to abuse his powers for his own plans. Removing a few straps to make it fit better, he put the helmet on.

Charles stared at the switches. Yes, they were far closer to Hank's original version. It took a little fiddling, but soon he felt the surge of it waking up, weaving around his gift and casting it outward.

Unlike any other time, where he'd search out in all directions for other mutants, he focused on the plan he'd made with Erik the night before. Get to the members of Congress, as it was in session, use them - their minds - as stepping stones for names to find others and along the way, influence, weave them together and use them as a network to get to the people in power. In theory, a sound plan, but Charles had no idea how powerful this version of Cerebro was or how Hank's serum had influenced his gift. 

He hadn't told Erik anything about the serum, apart from it being different from the old one in allowing him to keep his gift. Not that he could have shared much more. So far that was all the serum was. When he realized when he cast his mind outward was, just how wrong he'd been.

If he hadn't seen the crudeness of this Cerebro, he might theorize that it was stronger than Hank's last machine, but he'd be lying to himself. For a moment he overstretched, over _shot_ his mark by… so much he couldn't even measure it. Oh Hank, you brilliantly and reckless boy. Unfortunately it took Charles by surprise, spiralling him faster and faster away. right until he found Erik. Felt his presence right _there_. And he couldn't stop, falling into Erik's familiar mind. There was a rush of surprise from Erik, then a welcome Charles hadn't dared expect.

Charles had been inside Erik's head the night where Eik had told him about Irene's predictions and possible timelines. But it was nothing compared to this, and he knew Erik felt how deep he went and there was no hostility - nothing but- Irene hadn't just told him about the possible future. She'd _shown_ Erik. In vivid details. And with every permutation came the images of Charles' death, tearing Erik apart, bit by bit.

Pushing away from the mind gently, Charles found himself again, found his focus. Erik's mind and memories weren't for him to peruse at will. Charles also realized that Hank had unknowingly given him the boost he needed. The minds of mutants he passed by, until he found the minds he needed, connected them all together and - for the lack of the correct word, cleared his throat mentally.

_My name is Charles Xavier. I am a mutant. And once upon a time I had a dream... of a world where all Earth's children, both mutant and baseline human, might live together in peace. This isn't it. This is today's reality. I want to show you all something, and I want you understand why I am doing this - why you have forced me to do this._

Instead of using words, Charles showed them, the men of Congress, the people in power, and realized he could reach farther, reach more minds. Relaxing, he reached farther and touched minds of ordinary people going about their day. If he showed them this, maybe they would understand.

He showed them what Stryker had done to him, to other mutants. He showed them the possible futures Irene had seen that Erik had shared with him. He showed them the future Logan had let him see, the future his own future self had let him see.

_We are your brothers, sisters, parents, children - we are like you in every way that counts. You have seen this now, you have seen what can happen if we do not stop where this is heading. We should have learned from the past, yet we are continuously making the same mistakes. Please prove that we are all above inflicting such pain and suffering on anyone, mutant or human._

Charles let go of everyone's minds. Nice and slow, not quite a caress, but in the way a parent would gently touch a child's head. He had to hope for the best, because this was about the last chance he'd give this.

 _'Charles, we have little time to get out,'_ Erik pushed at him and Charles shook himself, focusing back on the here and now.

Dropping the helmet on the floor, Charles hurried back to the entrance, finding it swinging open as Erik was expecting him. "We need to destroy this Cerebro," he said as Erik lead him back out. No one was there to stop them, no guards.

"I think you left them a little stunned," Erik said with a small smile. "I heard the guards and felt their metal, but they all moved away from us, not towards us." Erik gestured at the entrance to Cerebro. "Leave the destruction to me once we're outside."

Charles watched the people around them in the street as they came out. Everyone looked a little dazed. Maybe he had been a little more forceful than he'd intended - partly due to Hanks' serum boosting his powers.

He waited as Erik swept his hand sideways, a rumbling noise from the facility they had left behind. A few buildings shook, but nothing toppled. "Nice control," he said when Erik came over to him. "Safe house?"

"I've got one or two left that no one else knows about," Erik agreed. "I think we should lay low and wait and see what happens."

Charles nodded. He remembered the night in the CIA facility, when he'd told Erik he knew everything about him. How wrong he'd been. He'd only gleaned his mind. Half an hour earlier, he'd been in Cerebro, reaching out and he'd more or less sunk into Erik's mind, this time barred from no secrets, memories or emotions.

\---~~---

The safe house was on a small island. Half a ruin, but more than enough for them, stable enough to be lived in at one end. Charles figured Erik had strengthened it and even an earthquake probably wouldn't be able to topple it.

Erik let him down right on the doorstep, looking as tired as Charles felt. They entered the house and Erik flung open a couple of windows, letting the stale air out, a fine layer of dust on the old fashioned furniture.

"What do we do now?" Erik asked as he walked through the quiet house, Charles trailing behind him.

Charles sighed deeply. He wanted to sleep, but adrenaline still pumped through his veins, the memory of throwing his gift farther out than ever before, touching more minds than ever before. He tried to put a lid on it, even if it left him feeling restless. "We fall back - we let them take the next step. They think I'm watching them constantly - I planted that seed of thought without really thinking about it. We keep an eye on the news and on what else we might hear, but the ball's firmly in their court." He paused, then followed Erik into what turned out to be the bedroom with a large bed up against the far wall. "All guards and officers - they've let everyone out, they're shutting it all down, making all the information of what they've done to mutants public. It will have repercussions, but what they choose to make of it, will be their choice."

"You plan to play the watcher instead of the teacher or liberator?" Erik hedged.

"You might say it that way. Hank can carry on the teachings, I can't do that now. I know it's not in your nature to sit back and-" Charles began, not really wanting to have this discussion right now.

"Really, Charles? I had years under the Pentagon in solitary to do nothing but think. I channelled it wrong at first, when you came for me. I thought I was doing the right thing when I went after Raven. I know that it wasn't the right way, but I can't very well change that now. All I can try is to do what's right now." He stopped for a moment. "And I'd like to do it by your side - not alone. I think it's been proven that my head-on approach doesn't work the way I wanted it to. I'm more than willing to give your plan a go. I can always be the back-up plan if they don't learn from this."

Charles wasn't sure what to say. A day earlier and he'd still have had his worries, but he'd seen Erik's mind from the top to the very bottom a few hours earlier.

Erik unhooked his cape and put it down on the table by the window. He leaned in and blew dust off the helmet that was sat in the middle of the table. "What are _we_ doing now?"

Charles stared at the helmet and wondered how many Erik had. "I want to help mutants, protect them, but I'm not going to set myself up for another fall. I want to step back and recuperate - wait until mankind might prove themselves."

Erik waved his hand and the helmet lifted into the air. He held it in front of Charles. "I meant between you and I." He waited for a moment but Charles had no idea what to say. What Erik expected of him. "It's the last one made," Erik finally said. "Am I right in thinking that you could easily protect me if Emma Frost did come around?"

Charles nodded. "Of course." He wasn't sure where Erik was going with this, but he was willing to wait it out.

Erik met his eyes and didn't look away, as he clenched his hands into fists, the helmet slowly crumbling in front of Charles. "I know of no other deposits of this metal - I can not recreate it."

Taking a deep breath, Charles reached out and put his hands on Erik's - only meaning to push them down. As he touched Erik, he felt the push of Erik's mind, the other man's mind reaching for his own. The ball of metal fell to the floor, Erik's hands unclenched and Charles found himself moving forward as Erik pulled on him, desperation almost tangible.

Where their first kiss - days earlier - had been soft and comforting, this one was tinged with desperation and relief in equal measure. Desperation, that they might not have this for long, relief that they were finally giving in, that Charles was out of the hands of Stryker and the government, that they had cut all ties and could be allowed to have this, at least for a while.

Charles was barely aware of nearly shredding Erik's shirt trying to get it off him. Somehow Erik got him out of his and the touch of skin to skin took Charles' breath away. "Are we actually doing this?" he gasped out when Erik swung him around and pushed him up against the wall.

"I should hope so," Erik gasped against his neck, sinking his teeth into the tendon between Charles' neck and shoulder.

Charles' restlessness finally had an outlet and he grabbed onto Erik's shoulders, digging his fingers in. Hooking one leg over Erik's hip, he moaned when Erik grabbed his arse and lifted him off his feet. The other leg went over Erik's other hip and Charles let him take his full weight.

Erik found his mouth again in a sloppy kiss and it was all Charles could do to hang on. The physical strenght of Erik's body moving against his and the strong mind sinking into Charles' left him in a strange mental place. His body felt as if it could go on forever, on the edge and his mind only supported this.

Charles scrambled at Erik's shoulder, arms, head, hair, throwing his own head back, letting out a long, drawn out moan as his climax took him by complete surprise. He could feel Erik's chuckle against his bared throat.

"You didn't," Charles started to say.

Erik shook his head, his hair tickling the underside of Charles' jaw. "Not yet."

Charles yelped when Erik hefted him up and stumbled towards the bed. The air was pushed from his lungs when Erik dropped him on it, roughly undoing Charles' trousers and pulling them off. He dragged the briefs off as well, wiping away the worst of the rapidly cooling come.

Then Erik's own trousers went, along with underwear as he nearly tripped himself, getting onto the bed and looming over Charles.

Charles met his gaze and pulled him down on top of him, bracketing Erik's hips and urging him to move, his erection rubbing against Charles' flaccid cock - almost, but not quite painful. Charles reached down between them, folding his hand around Erik, squeezing and offering more friction.

Erik's movements became erratic. He put his arms on either side of Charles and levered his upper body up to allow him to watch Charles as they both moved. The spatter of warm semen hit Charles’ skin and Erik collapsed on top of him, taking his mouth in a kiss that was hard enough to almost break the skin of Charles' lips. There was no taste of blood, but Charles relished the sting of it, it made him feel real and at that very moment, there was no deceit in Erik's mind or in his touch.

Charles found himself clinging to Erik as Erik rode out his climax. He almost missed Erik's whispered reassurances in his ear. "It's okay, we have time, we have _time_.

Shivering in Erik's hold and barely feeling any warmer as Erik pulled the cover out from under them to cover them both, Charles hoped that Erik was right. That they had bought the time necessary. That Erik would not change his mind again. It would be the final nail in Charles' coffin, breaking him at last.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> And I can only repeat - please go shower [Shigai](http://shigtopia.tumblr.com/post/110522640595/art-for-the-x-men-reverse-bang-story-stars-are) with all the love in the world and tell her how gorgeous the artwork is.


End file.
